


Barty on the Couch

by SideshowStarlet



Series: Arrested Development [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Barty Crouch Jr Appreciation 2k19, Barty Jr raises Harry, Dementors seem to enjoy the drama, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Harry in Azkaban, Harry raised in Azkaban, Humor, Prehogwarts era, Sirius Black raises Harry, Young Harry, mentions of previous child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 04:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17860478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SideshowStarlet/pseuds/SideshowStarlet
Summary: Raising a child in Azkaban is stressful. Luckily Barty Jr. and Sirius each have their own couch to veg out on after a hard day. Dementors attack prisoners that are too happy, and they swarm the despairing ones like vultures over a carcass. But they can't do much with feelings of anger, frustration, and annoyance at the stupidity of the world in general. This leads to a certain amount of lying on the couch, venting to the silent Dementors, who seem to enjoy the drama.Barty Jr's POV: An argument leads to misunderstanding, which leads to chaos. Ironically, it is a Dementor that helps Barty see the light.Part 2 in my Arrested Development series. I would recommend reading Arrested Development first. Otherwise, this story won't make much sense.





	Barty on the Couch

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't expect there to be a part two, but I was feeling inspired. This ended up being about twice as long as I expected, along with ending in an entirely different way. I hope you enjoy!

Barty Jr. and Sirius may have been stuck in a prison guarded by soul-sucking wraiths. They may be two people who never expected to have anything to do with one another (aside from fighting on opposite sides of the battlefield). They each may be more than a little insane. But, they still had a child to raise.

Despite Harry's undeniable cuteness, neither man was naturally suited to be a parent. Still, they persisted. Even as Barty's future Dark Prince refused to have his bath. ( _The Dark Lord never **stunk.**_ Barty thought. _He always smelled of **power** and **victory!** One day... Whoops- Dementors coming- Diaper change, breakfast, diaper change, singing, snacktime..._). Even as Sirius's Prongslet refused to learn how to use the chamber pot each cell was provided with _("I don't remember James being this attached to DIAPERS! And with all these Dementors around, that memory would sure stick out if it happened!" Sirius complained, as Harry once again ran to the opposite corner of the room from the chamber pot, relieved himself, and called for Barty to change him. "I hope not," Barty defended his charge, even though he wasn't exactly fond of cleaning up the mess. "Didn't you two meet when you were **eleven**?") _

Things improved somewhat with Barty's mastery of the Animagus transformation. The man could turn into an owl and deliver supplies brought with gold from Sirius's Gringotts account. Instead of wearing diapers made from torn pieces of Barty's Azkaban robes, Harry wore diapers purchased from the Rock-a-Bye Baby Shop in Diagon Alley. Brightly colored rugs and tapestries covered the walls and floors, adding color and warmth to the cells. Each of them now had his own mattress with a thick comforter to sleep on, rather than the mess of thin, ragged blankets. At least in theory. Harry loudly insisting upon sharing Barty's bed every night without fail. But, despite the difficulties of raising a child in Azkaban, the three were better off than they were when they first started living together.

Probably the best purchase they made were two identical sofas, one for each cell. They were both set up facing the hallway, so Barty and Sirius could sit on their sofas after a long day and veg out, watching the other prisoners going mad in their cells and the Dementors gliding through the hallways. After a particularly long day, both men have been known to vent. The Dementors were attracted to happy thoughts, and they fed on people in despair. However, they couldn't do much against anger, frustration, and annoyance at the stupidity of the world in general. Still, some Dementors hung around to listen to the men ranting, knowing it was the only entertainment they would get until another person died.

In recent months, Barty Jr. had acquired a limpet. It wasn't a conscious choice. It just... happened one day, and hadn't stopped happening since. Like most of his problems, he blamed his father for this one.

Barty hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, due to Harry's insistence on sleeping in his bed. It took a while to settle the child down to sleep, and Harry had woken them both up an hour later with a soiled diaper. The lack of sleep caused Harry to be fussy all day, as well as more clingy than usual. It took a great deal of bargaining to get Harry to settle down for a midmorning nap. Harry wasn't convinced by Barty's argument that "Dark Lords need their sleep!" Barty had resorted to bribes. He was pretty sure he now owed Harry every piece of chocolate ever made for the rest of eternity, as well as a toy broomstick, a _real_ broomstick, and a pet dragon. And Harry refused to leave his arms for the nap. No matter how gently Barty set him down, Harry would wake up and scream. So Barty resigned himself to carrying a sleeping child around the cell while making an attempt to clean the toys scattered around the room.

Meanwhile, Sirius had spent his morning lying around as a dog and scratching himself (also as a dog, thankfully). Barty decided to give up the cleaning as a bad job. Sometimes, he wished the Dark Lord could have gifted him with a house elf as well. Still holding Harry, Barty plopped down, exhausted, on the couch in his cell. This was difficult, as half of it was covered with children's toys, and the other half was stained with fingerpaint, which was still wet. Barty's movements jostled Harry awake, and he began to fuss. "Shhh... shhh, my lamb," Barty cooed, rocking him back to sleep. Harry curled back up on Barty's chest and fell back asleep.

A Dementor with nothing better to do stood just outside Barty's cell, watching the exhausted man trying to get comfortable on the couch without moving too much. Maybe Barty was going crazy (he was most definitely going crazy), but there seemed to be something judgmental in its stare. "Don't look at me like that!" he snapped. "Sheep are cute and all, but you ever seen them attack a person? Blood, carnage, terror, wool..." he gazed dreamily into the distance.

The Dementor cocked its hooded head.

"He was cute and cuddly when I gave him that nickname," Barty admitted. "Now, he's... well... every bit as demanding as a Dark Prince, and at this point, I'm too exhausted to think up another pet name."

As if to prove his point, Harry stirred, woke himself up, and began to cry. Barty rocked him back to sleep, then laid Harry across his lap, soothingly rubbing the sleeping child's stomach.

The Dementor hummed non-committally.

"I mean, this whole 'Raise Your Future Ruler' thing was fun at first, but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," Barty admitted. "I signed up to be a minion, not a bloody house-elf. And Sirius is _no help at all,_ " he added, glaring at the dog sleeping on his own couch in the cell next door. Barty gazed enviously at Sirius's sofa, which had nothing on it besides Sirius and dog hair that Sirius himself had shed.

The Dementor called a memory to the forefront of Barty's mind. It was from a week ago, when Barty was trying to cook dinner for himself and Harry.

_Harry, as usual, refused to be put down, and Barty was trying to cook while holding him. "At least let me cook Harry dinner," Sirius said. "I'm his godfather."_

_"Your being his godfather doesn't change the fact that you feed him nothing but junk," Barty pointed out. "The candy kept him up all night, and the four cups of juice ensured that he was up all night peeing. I'm never letting you feed Harry dinner again."_

_One of the Dementors came by with the usual mug of gruel. Both men ignored it, already having a supply of food ordered from the outside world at this point. At this point, Barty suspected that the Dementors only came by with "meals" for him and Sirius just so they could have an excuse to hang out and watch the latest drama unfold._

_"That was just one time!"_

_"Exactly! I'm not repeating that night again!"_

_"Fine," said Sirius, admitting defeat. "What are you making?"_

_"Beef wellington, broccoli, baked potato, and a souffle for dessert."_

_"Do you really expect Harry to eat all that?" Sirius asked._

_"No, I thought I would cook it, and we could look at it all night. Maybe you can start a food fight with Harry again, and we can have some abstract art on the walls."_

_"Really?!" said Sirius, overjoyed. "I thought I wasn't allowed to even think about doing that again, under pain of death! I'm glad you've finally gotten over it, Barty!"_

_Barty threw the knife he was using at Sirius. Sirius caught it by the handle. "Hey, what gives?!" Sirius demanded._

_"Not. Over. It." said Barty, crossing his arms._

_The menacing look was somewhat ruined by the three year-old clinging to his chest. "Candy, Barty?" Harry asked, hopefully._

_"No, lamby," said Barty, turning away from Sirius and selecting another knife. "Dinner's soon." With great effort, he used the new knife to continue making dinner, rather than throwing it at Sirius._

_Harry squirmed and grabbed Barty's face, making the man look at him. "Barty, I want candy!" he cried._

_"After dinner, my lamb," Barty attempted to soothe him._

_"No! Now! Candy now!"_

_Despite previously putting up a fuss, insisting that Barty hold him while making dinner, Harry screamed and squirmed out of Barty's arms. Barty gently set him down and released his anger by kicking the stone wall of his cell. Now his foot hurt, and he still had to finish dinner._

_Barty methodically worked his way through the task of cooking dinner, while, in the background, Harry and Sirius giggled together. By the time he finished cooking, set the table, and set aside a portion of the meal for Sirius, he was feeling slightly calmer. That is, until he turned around and saw a suspicious-looking brown stain around Harry's mouth. Barty threw what was going to be Sirius's dinner against the bars separating the two cells. "For fuck's sake, Sirius!" he screamed as Harry, frightened, began to cry. "How do you expect Harry to eat anything if you're always feeding him candy?!"_

_"I don't expect him to eat like an adult, Barty! Of course he's gonna want candy! He's a little kid!" Sirius responded._

_"And he'll never grow up if you keep feeding him crap!" said Barty._

_Harry cried louder, distracting the adults from their argument. Both Sirius and Barty rushed to comfort him._

_"It's okay, Prongslet," said Sirius, reaching a hand through the bars and holding Harry's small hand._

_"I'm sorry, lamby," said Barty, kneeling down and holding Harry's other hand._

_Harry, in complete contrast to the clingy child he had been earlier that day, ran to the other side of the cell and hid underneath a pile of blankets. Sirius watched helplessly as his godson ran out of his reach. Barty slowly approached the lump of blankets._

_"Harry?" Barty asked tentatively._

_Harry poked his head out of the blankets. "Go away," he said, before disappearing under the blankets again._

_Barty sighed. Those blankets were the old, thin, and ragged ones that had served as bedding before he and Sirius were able to purchase new ones. There was no way Harry would be warm enough underneath them if he ended up falling asleep there. Barty collected his and Harry's blankets from the mattress the two of them had been sharing and piled them on top of Harry. Harry felt the comforting weight and warmth and snuggled deeper into the blankets. There was something missing, but he didn't want to leave the warmth of the blankets to traipse across a cold cell. He caught sight of a familiar pair of feet through a gap between the blankets and the floor._

_"Barty! Barty!" he called._

_"Yes, lamby?"_

_"I want my pillow!"_

_"Are you going to sleep here?"_

_"No! I'm building! I want your pillow, too!"_

_Barty brought over his and Harry's pillows. "What are you building?" he asked._

_"Secret fort!" Harry exclaimed. "Mine! You stay out!"_

_"I won't come in," Barty promised, pulling back the blankets to hand Harry the pillows._

_Harry grabbed the pillows and hastily pulled the blankets back over his head. He seemed to be done with his clinging for good. Perhaps now he could get some cleaning done._

_Barty had just begun to put away the dinner things before he heard Harry calling him again. "Barty! Help!"_

_Barty hurried over. "What's wrong, lamby? Did you get hurt?"_

_"No! Help build the fort! I want a big fort!"_

_Barty looked over Harry's efforts at building. It seemed that he tried to stack the pillows on top of each other lengthwise and pile the blankets on top, and everything kept falling over._

_"How tall, my lamb?" Barty asked, lifting the blankets._

_"Taller than me!"_

_Barty wiped down the square dining table and dragged it over, draping a blanket over it. He then brought over both his and Harry's mattresses, laid them on their sides, and leaned the tops against one another so that the formed an upside-down V. He then draped two blankets over the opening to make a door. Another three blankets covered the gaps between the mattresses and the dining table. Harry let Barty in the fort long enough to set him up with a pillow and blanket in case he decided to fall asleep in there._

_"Barty, wait!" cried Harry, as Barty made to leave the fort._

_"Yes, lamby?" Barty asked patiently._

_"I need light."_

_Barty slid one of the blankets making up the wall slightly to the side, allowing light from the hallway to enter the fort. "No! No, Barty! Make pretty lights!"_

_Barty nodded in understanding. He gave a complicated wave of his hand, and soon, lights in all the colors of the rainbow floated around the tent. Harry gave a loud, unrestrained laugh. The more time he and Barty spent together, the more Harry's laugh sounded like Barty's. Unfortunately, Barty had spent enough time in Azkaban to know that Dementors converged on a laugh like that like vultures over a rotting carcass._

_"We have to be quiet, my lamb," Barty whispered, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder._

_Instantly, Harry's mood changed. "No! You're a bad man! Don't tell me what to do! I tell you what to do!"_

_Barty gripped his left forearm, from which the Dark Mark had long since faded. How did he know?_

_"I don't like telling you what to do either, lamby," said Barty. "You can boss me around if you like," he promised._

_His words seemed to comfort Harry. His Little Prince curled up against his chest. "Make the lights again, Barty," he said quietly._

_Barty obliged, and Harry watched the multicolored lights floating around the fort with a broad grin on his face before falling asleep on Barty's chest._

Barty hadn't tried telling Harry what to do since that day. He would teach him magic, songs, and stories, would bargain with him, bribe him, and make suggestions, but he never issued a command or denied Harry anything. If Harry wanted candy for breakfast, he got candy for breakfast. Barty tried to make the best of things, teaching Harry to summon it to his hand, and he was pleased to see his lamby making great progress. If Harry wanted to stay up until the early hours of the morning jumping on Barty's bed, Barty let him, but also tried teaching him how to fly. Although Barty lost a great deal of sleep this way, Harry would soon be as proficient at broomless, wandless flight as the Dark Lord.

Slowly, through bribes, pleas, and promises on Barty's part, they started to make progress with potty-training. It was slow-going- Harry really didn't see anything wrong with diapers, especially since they started using the store-brought kind- but it was progress.

The Dementor stood, silent as ever, as Barty reflected upon the memory. "I know what you're thinking," Barty told the guard. "You think I'm turning him into a spoiled brat. You think I'm a crappy parent. You're thinking my _father_ would never allow a kid to run roughshod over him like this. And you're right! But how good a job could my father have done? I mean, look where I ended up!" He gestured around his Azkaban cell. True, it was more joyful-looking than it had been when he first arrived, but it was a prison cell, nonetheless.

The Dementor pushed another memory to the forefront of Barty's mind. This wasn't one of his. It was, he realized, seeing an infant with a lightning-shaped scar sleeping on the doorstep of a Muggle house, one of Harry's. Barty noticed a golden number 4 on the door.

The memory proceeded in fast motion. Those barbaric Muggles treated Harry horribly, as Barty had expected, judging by the condition in which Harry had arrived at Azkaban. The large man threw things, the bony woman yelled, and the fat kid took Harry's food. Barty winced, remembering how he had thrown things and yelled about Harry eating candy.

Barty watched helplessly as Harry grew into a toddler and his treatment got worse. The fat man yelled about Harry managing to float the telly off the shelf and slam it to the floor, then took off his belt. Harry screamed, then disappeared.

Barty slowly floated out of the house and down the street. He had enough time to read the sign indicating that the house was on Privet Drive before his mind returned to the present.

He felt the reassuring weight of Harry sleeping in his lap. Barty gently lifted him and kissed his forehead. Of course, Harry woke up again. This time, he didn't cry, content to snuggle with Barty.

"Lamby?" Barty asked. "How would you like me to hex the bad Muggles?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Harry squealed, clapping his hands and bouncing on Barty.

"Eat a good lunch, first," said Barty. "Beef and broccoli. After lunch, you can play with Sirius, and I'll pay the Muggles a visit. I'll give the fat kid a pig's tail..."

Harry shrieked with laughter. Barty would have loved to turn the cousin into a pig, but he had to make it look like a bit of accidental magic a child could conceivably do. It hurt his Transfiguration-whiz, Ravenclaw soul to do such a terrible job, but needs must. At least he would be journeying out during the day, so he would have an excuse to make his animagus form invisible in order to avoid suspicion. It was like going on a raid again. The world's easiest raid.

"How'd you like the mean lady's hair to turn into snakes?" Barty asked. "You like snakes, don't you?"

"Snakes!" Harry agreed. Harry had a book full of moving pictures of snakes. About a month ago, Barty heard him speaking Parseltongue to the snakes in the book. Sirius had thought Harry was just playing, but Barty had been around his Lord and Nagina enough times to know Parseltongue when he heard it, even if he couldn't understand it.

"And for the fat man," Barty tried to think of a suitably awful fate for the man who had beat his Little Prince that could still be considered accidental magic. "How about I turn his legs into jelly? And make him fall down the stairs?" Not enough of a punishment, but it would have to do. Everything would reverse itself after a few hours. The Ministry would notice the magic, note that it was done without a wand in a house where a wizard under eleven lived, and assume it was accidental. They wouldn't see the need to send anyone over there and add to the chaos.

"Yes, Barty! Do it!" Harry cried.

"Lunch first," said Barty, setting Harry down. "Let's walk to the table."

Harry held Barty's hand, but he didn't demand to be carried like he used to. "Candy?" he asked.

"After lunch," said Barty.

Harry's brow wrinkled. He reached out with the hand that wasn't holding Barty's, and, in seconds, several jellybeans flew into Harry's hand. Barty knelt down and took them from Harry. "After lunch," Barty repeated, bracing himself for a fit.

"Okay," Harry said after a pause. "I get candy after lunch. And you go hex the Muggles."

"Yes, my lamb," said Barty, a broad grin on his face.

 


End file.
